


Emotional Support

by adrianna_m_scovill



Category: Law & Order: SVU
Genre: Angst and Hurt/Comfort, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-24
Updated: 2018-03-24
Packaged: 2019-04-07 09:10:54
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 12,365
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14077599
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/adrianna_m_scovill/pseuds/adrianna_m_scovill
Summary: I ended up combining several requests into one, in this fic. The main request, however, was for Noah wanting to stay with Barba when Benson is injured.





	Emotional Support

“Hey, honey,” Benson said, holding out a hand as her son hurried toward her hospital bed. “It’s okay.” She thought Noah was going to throw himself at her, and she tried to brace herself, but the boy stopped beside the bed, without touching her, and stared at her with wide eyes. She looked over at Barba, who seemed almost as unsure as Noah. “Thanks for picking him up,” she said.

“Of course,” Barba answered, fidgeting as he regarded her. She knew that when she’d added his name to Noah’s list of emergency contacts/pickups at the school, neither of them had ever expected it to be necessary.

“Lucy’s going to be here any minute,” Benson told Noah. She was still holding out a hand, but he was hovering out of reach. “She’ll take you home—”

“No,” Noah said, shaking his head. “I wanna stay with you.”

“Honey, Mommy has to stay here tonight,” Benson said. “I’m sorry, baby, but you can’t stay with me. I’ll see you tomorrow—”

Noah shook his head again, taking a step backward. “I don’t want to go home,” he said.

Barba turned and stepped out of the way as Rollins came into the room. “Hey, Liv,” she said. “Carisi and Fin are taking—”

“We can talk about it later,” Benson interrupted.

Rollins glanced at Noah. “Sure,” she agreed. “Did you get ahold of Lucy?”

“She’s on her way,” Benson said.

“I don’t want to go with Lucy,” Noah said, his voice higher than normal as he took another step backward.

“Noah, honey, what’s the matter?” Benson asked. “It’s just for the night and I’ll…hopefully be home tomorrow. Come here,” she said, motioning for him, but he continued to hang back.

“I’m not going home,” Noah said.

“Okay,” Benson told him, her tone placating. “Okay, sweetheart, I’ll ask Lucy to take you to her house—”

“ _No_ ,” Noah said.

“If you want, I can take him back to my place,” Rollins suggested. “Take him to school in the morning.”

“Would you rather go stay with Aunt Amanda and Jesse?” Benson asked.

“No,” Noah said. “I want to stay with you.”

Benson sighed. “I know, Noah,” she murmured. She didn’t want to spend the night away from him, either, but she was disturbed by how worked up he was getting. “But I’ll see you after school tomorrow.” There was a light knock on the door, and Lucy stuck her head into the room. “Come on in,” Benson said. Her fresh round of pain medication was kicking in, and she was already feeling groggy. She struggled to focus, because making sure Noah was alright was the most important thing.

“Hey, I’m sorry I couldn’t—” Lucy said, but Noah cut her off.

“I’m not going with Lucy or Amanda!” he declared, backing closer to the wall, and Benson was alarmed to see the tears pooling in his eyes.

Her thoughts were growing fuzzier by the minute. She wanted nothing more than to comfort him, but the truth was, she had nowhere else for him to go. “Noah,” she said. “I can’t…Help Mommy out, sweetheart. You can’t stay here and I can’t leave, so you tell me, what do you want to do?”

Noah looked around himself like a trapped rabbit, his gaze skidding across Rollins and Lucy before landing on Barba. He pointed a shaky finger. “I wanna stay with Uncle Rafa,” he said, surprising everyone—Barba, most of all.

Benson looked at Barba and met his eyes, saw his confusion and alarm. She opened her mouth to tell her son that he couldn’t stay with the lawyer—that Barba was too busy, that Noah would simply have to go with either Rollins or Lucy—but she saw Barba’s expression shift into one of determination.

“Noah, why don’t you come home with me?” Rollins asked. “We can make a party out of it.”

“No! Only him!”

“Mr. Barba’s busy, Noah, you know that,” Lucy said. “I’m sure he’d like you to visit, but he has—”

“You can’t tell me what to do, you’re not my mom,” Noah told her, his chin quivering.

“Noah!” Benson exclaimed, shocked by his attitude. He loved Lucy, and had for most of his life. He’d never been so disrespectful. Benson shifted with a wince, catching Barba’s gaze, again. Before she could further admonish her son, Barba spoke.

“It’s alright,” he said, stepping forward and holding up a hand. “Just get some rest, Liv. We’ve got this handled, alright? He can come to my apartment for the night if that’s what he wants.” He saw the surprise and skepticism on Rollin’s face, and he shot the detective a dirty look. “Between the three of us, we’ve got this covered,” he added, silently daring Rollins to disagree.

“Right,” she said, turning toward Benson. “Absolutely, don’t worry about a thing. You just relax and…and feel better, alright? Noah’s taken care of.”

Benson’s eyelids were heavy, but she found Barba’s gaze. She trusted them, all three of them. They wouldn’t let anything happen to Noah while she was in the hospital. She shifted her eyes to her son. “Be good for Uncle Rafa,” she murmured. “I love you, Noah,” she added as she slipped into the dark embrace of intravenous medication.

 

*       *       *

 

“Look, I have to get back to the precinct, but…are you sure you can handle this?” Rollins asked, eyeing Noah as the boy stood staring blankly into the vending machine partway down the hall.

Barba glanced over at the kid. “Of course I can _handle_ it,” he said, adjusting his jacket. He wasn’t at all sure that he could, but when Rollins looked at him, he scowled to cover his unease. “Go back to work, Detective, and do me a favor. Don’t screw this up. Bring me a good case so we can nail this son of a bitch to the wall.”

“Oh, don’t worry,” Rollins said. “After what he did to Liv? He’ll never set foot on the street again.”

Barba closed his eyes and pulled in a deep breath. “For the love of God, Detective Rollins,” he said, letting the air out in a sigh. He opened his eyes and speared her with his glare. “If anything happens to jeopardize—”

“We’ll do our jobs, Counsellor,” she cut in. “Then we’ll hand him over so you can do yours.” She walked past him, toward Noah, and Barba clenched his jaw and his fists, mentally counting to ten. Behind him, he could hear her talking to the boy. “Alright, Noah, you have fun with Rafael, okay? If you change your mind and want to come stay with me and Jesse, we’ll have a spot waiting for you. I put my phone number and Lucy’s in your backpack—”

“I already know them,” Noah said.

“I know, you’ve got a great memory, kiddo, but just in case. You just call if you need anything, okay?”

“Okay,” Noah said, shifting his feet and sounding sullen.

Barba turned and walked over to join them. Noah didn’t look up at him.

Rollins straightened and told Barba, “Call if you need help.” He nodded, once, and she ruffled Noah’s hair before striding away.

Lucy had already left—after triple-checking to make sure that Barba had her number programmed into his phone, in case he needed help, or had any questions, or Noah asked for her.

Now that Barba found himself alone with the boy, he wasn’t really sure what to do. He was going to text for a car but hesitated. He wasn’t sure if Noah required a car seat. Barba had picked him up from school in a cab, without one, but that had been a short ride and Barba hadn’t had much time to plan.

He went over the child restraint laws in his head, trying to mentally gauge Noah’s height and weight. “Do you need a booster seat?” he finally asked.

“Sometimes I ride in taxis without one,” Noah muttered, staring at the vending machine.

“Right, okay,” Barba answered, debating. He looked at his phone. “Well…I’ll just request a car with a booster, anyway. We don’t want to break any laws, right?”

Noah shrugged a shoulder without looking at him.

Barba glanced at the machine. “Are you hungry?” he asked. “Do you want something—”

“No,” Noah answered, quietly.

Barba watched him, afraid to take his eyes off the kid and risk letting him disappear, while he arranged for a car to pick them up. Then he cleared his throat. “Okay, well, we can stop by your place and get whatever you need.”

“I don’t need anything.”

“You need clothes, at least.”

“I’m wearing clothes.”

“I mean for tomorrow, for school,” Barba said.

“I’ll wear these again, they’re not smelly.”

“And pajamas,” Barba added, trying to tamp down his exasperation.

“I don’t want to go home.”

“Why? We won’t stay if you don’t want, we’ll just—”

“I don’t _want_ to,” Noah said, and Barba could see the emotion twisting the boy’s face—even in profile.

He wasn’t sure what he was supposed to say or do. He certainly didn’t want to force the boy to do something he was so adamantly set against. “Alright,” he finally said, feeling completely out of his depths. “I guess…I can have someone drop some stuff off or…I’ll just find something for you to sleep in, then,” he said. “Is there anything else you _do_ need or somewhere you want to stop…?”

Noah shook his head.

“Alright, then, let’s go, the car should be here in a few minutes.” Noah turned and walked toward the exit, with his shoulders hunched beneath the straps of his backpack. Barba followed, half a step behind. The closer they got to the door, the more nervous Barba grew. He wasn’t sure what the problem was. He didn’t have much experience with kids, that was true, but he’d spent time with Noah; he’d known the boy most of his young life, and had even occasionally played with him. He’d become comfortable enough in his presence—or so he’d thought. But the idea of taking the child back to his apartment—of being alone with him and solely responsible for keeping him safe—was filling Barba’s stomach with knots.

When they got to the sidewalk, Barba stepped closer to the boy, putting his hand on his backpack, afraid that he would be swept away by the crowd. He pointed toward the waiting car, and Noah headed toward it. When they reached the car, however, Barba hesitated, turning to face the boy.

“Noah,” he said. “Listen. I really don’t think you’d like it at my place. There aren’t any toys, or…kid books, or even food, really. I’m sure you’d like to sleep in your own bed—Noah,” he said, as the boy took a step backward, shaking his head. “I can take you home and stay with you until Lucy can—”

“No,” Noah said. He looked around and suddenly turned, breaking into a run.

Barba’s heart leapt into his throat, and he lurched forward as Noah darted toward the street. The surge of adrenaline added speed and length to Barba’s steps as he ran after the boy, and in a matter of seconds he’d grabbed the kid’s backpack. He yanked Noah backward, momentarily plucking him from his feet, and Noah screamed, flailing his arms and legs.

As soon as his sneakers were back on the sidewalk, Noah tried to pull away, slapping at Barba’s arm.

“ _Mijo, mijo, mijo_ ,” Barba said, his heart slamming in his chest. “Calm down—Noah, what— _Noah_ ,” he said, sharper than he’d intended, and the boy stopped, blinking in surprise. He’d never heard Barba use that tone of voice, and the tears that had been shimmering in his eyes began to spill down his cheeks. “People are going to think I’m kidnapping you,” Barba said, resisting the urge to glance around. Part of him was annoyed that no one had intervened, yet. What if he _were_ trying to abduct the kid? How many bystanders would simply watch it happen? “I’m sorry, alright?” he told the boy. He didn’t really know what he was apologizing for—For suggesting the kid would be more comfortable in his own bed, in his own home?—but Noah was close to hyperventilating, and Barba only knew that he had to calm him down and get him somewhere safe. “We’re not going anywhere you don’t want to go. Okay? Just…do _not_ run off like that, _ever_. Alright?”

Noah’s chin was wobbling, his face close to crumpling, and Barba squeezed his shoulder.

“Everything okay over here?” someone asked, and Barba looked toward the sound of the voice. The man was approaching cautiously, with a hand held up, his gaze split between Barba and Noah.

 _Finally_ , Barba thought, even though he didn’t want to deal with any would-be Good Samaritans. “We’re fine, thank you,” he said.

“Kid?” the man asked, looking at Noah. “You okay, here?”

Noah sniffled and wiped his snot on his sleeve, looking at Barba. “Promise?” he asked in a shaky voice.

Barba never made promises he couldn’t keep, but in that moment, he thought he’d promise the kid anything in the world if it would get the heartbroken look off his face. “I promise,” he said.

Noah hiked his backpack into place and walked to the back door of the waiting car.

Barba nodded in the direction of the concerned citizen, and followed Noah to the car. He opened the door and helped the boy take off his pack, before Noah crawled into the booster seat and fastened himself in. Barba sat on the seat beside him, with the backpack on the floor between his feet, and pulled the door closed.

“Lot of drama, huh?” the driver asked, his voice laced with disinterest.

Barba bit back his sarcastic retort and instead, his voice carefully controlled, told the driver his home address. Once the car was cutting its way through traffic, Barba leaned his head back against the seat and sighed, closing his eyes. _Now what?_ he wondered.

 

*       *       *

 

Barba stood, staring into his refrigerator, but it was depressingly empty. “Noah,” he said, looking over his shoulder at where the boy was sitting at the table with his backpack on his lap. “I’ll order something. Do you eat, what? Chinese? Burger and fries? Pizza?”

“I’m not hungry,” Noah muttered.

Barba sighed and closed the refrigerator. Noah had been worried when Barba showed up at the school to fetch him, and he’d asked a bunch of questions about his mother and her injuries—questions that Barba, at the time, had been unable to answer—but he’d seemed normal. His behavior had changed dramatically inside that hospital room, after he saw Benson, and Barba was still reeling from the incident at the car.

“Pizza it is, then,” he said. He pulled out his phone and walked over to the table. He sat across from Noah, set down his phone, and put his elbows on the table. “So, Noah, you’re gonna have to help me out, alright? I know you’re upset about your mom being hurt but I’m not sure why you wanted to come here. Why you didn’t want to go home with Lucy or Rollins.”

“Sorry,” Noah mumbled, glancing at Barba and quickly away. “I know you’re busy, I won’t get in the way.”

Barba lifted a hand. “That’s not what this is, _mijo_ ,” he said, quietly. “You’re welcome here any time, Noah, for you and your mom, my door is always open. Okay? Do you want to talk to me? Do you have questions?”

“I know what _mijo_ means but I’m not your son,” Noah said, barely above a whisper. His eyes were pooled with tears.

“I know that, Noah.”

“I don’t have a dad,” the boy continued, tears spilling over his cheeks. “I…I…” He drew a shuddery breath and pushed away from the table, dropping his backpack to the floor with a thud. He got to his feet and headed toward the living room. “I wanna watch TV,” he said.

Barba chewed the inside of his cheek, debating. Should he push the boy? He had no idea. He didn’t think that Benson would encourage her son to hide from his feelings, though. Whatever was bothering Noah was too big for the boy to contain; it was going to tear him apart if he didn’t let it out. Barba looked at his phone, his fingers itching to text Lucy. Or Rollins. Or his own mother. Someone, anyone who could help him.

He didn’t want to betray Noah’s trust, though.

“Are you upset with Lucy about something?” he asked.

Noah stopped and turned. His cheeks were streaked with tears, his brow furrowed. “No,” he said.

“If there’s some reason you don’t want to stay with her, you can tell me.”

“No,” Noah said, shaking his head. He seemed confused, and Barba knew that it wasn’t about Lucy. It wasn’t about Rollins, either, but Barba needed to ask.

“And Rollins—Amanda? Is there a reason you don’t want to stay with her?”

Noah shook his head. He was fidgeting, fisting and unfisting his hands by his sides, and Barba could see that he was beginning to panic. “They didn’t do anything,” he said. “But…”

Barba got to his feet and walked toward Noah, whose small body was trembling. “But what, Noah?”

Noah shook his head, his face crumpling. “They can’t have me, yet,” he whispered.

Barba reached for him automatically, unable to bear the grief on the boy’s face. He thought Noah might pull away, or try to run, but after a moment’s hesitation, he threw himself at Barba, wrapping his arms around the man’s waist as he sobbed. Barba put one hand against Noah’s back, and the other on his head, holding him as he cried.

“It’s okay,” he murmured, his heart breaking for the boy. “Shh, it’s alright, Noah.” The words were playing over and over in his head: _they can’t have me, yet_. Barba could only guess, but he had a pretty good idea what they meant. “Your mom is going to be fine, Noah,” he said.

When the boy choked on a sob, Barba picked him up and turned, leaning against the back of the sofa while Noah clung to his neck, crying. Barba rubbed his back and waited. When the boy finally started to calm down, Barba straightened and walked around the sofa. He set Noah down on the couch and sat beside him, turning and drawing one knee up between them.

Noah’s eyes were red-rimmed and watery, but he had himself back under control.

“Talk to me, kid,” Barba said, quietly. “I can’t help if I don’t know the problem.”

“You can’t help,” Noah mumbled, swiping at his eyes.

Barba smiled. “I’m a pretty good problem-solver,” he said. “Why don’t you try me?”

“You promise not to lie?” Noah asked.

Barba hesitated. He didn’t know what Noah might ask, and there were questions that Barba might not be able to answer—even if he _knew_ the answer. Some things were not his to tell. “Yes, I promise not to lie,” he finally said.

“Is Mommy gonna die?” Noah asked, his lip trembling.

Even though he knew that Noah was worried about Benson, hearing the question—blunt and aloud—hit Barba like a dagger. His stomach clenched, and his heart sped into a race in his chest. Benson’s face—bruised and bloody—rose into his mind, and he swallowed around the sudden lump in his throat.

“Your mother is the strongest person I know,” he heard himself say. “She’s going to be fine. You’ll see her tomorrow.”

Noah was silent, and Barba could see him trying to figure out how to say what was on his mind. The boy simply didn’t have the ability to find the words he needed.

“What did you mean when you said ‘they can’t have me, yet.’ Noah?”

“Mommy told…Aunt Amanda…that…that if…”

Barba let out a breath. His heart hurt for the boy. “You heard them talking?” When Noah nodded, Barba continued, “And your mom was probably asking Rollins if she would take care of you if…something happened, right?”

Noah nodded again, fat tears spilling from his eyes. “And Lucy, too,” he muttered.

“Right,” Barba said, running a hand over his face. He was a little surprised that Benson had asked Rollins, although he supposed he shouldn’t be. Who else did Benson have? She had no family, and she wasn’t likely to want him raised by Sheila Porter. He wondered why she hadn’t mentioned her decision to him—if only to ask for legal advice. She had a lawyer of her own, of course, but Barba couldn’t help but feel a little hurt that she hadn’t at least _discussed_ it with him, considering it was probably one of the hardest decisions she’d made in her life.

“If Aunt Amanda doesn’t want me then Mom said I would live with Lucy and there would be money so we would stay in our apartment. But I don’t—”

“Noah, take a breath,” Barba said, as he could see the boy working himself up toward hysterics, again. “Look at me. Do you trust your Uncle Rafael?” Noah bit his lip and nodded. “Alright, let’s go through this. First of all, your mom is going to be fine. I know it’s hard to understand, but parents—moms and dads—they have to think about bad things that they don’t want to think about, because they have to make sure they do everything they can to protect their kids. Your mom has a dangerous job, you know that. She does everything she can to stay safe, but the truth is, we never really know what’s going to happen, Noah. She doesn’t want you to worry, and _I_ don’t want you to worry. That’s not your job. It’s our job to worry about _you_ , and think, what if something bad happens? Who’s going to take care of Noah? That doesn’t mean we think something bad _will_ happen. It’s just…a precaution. Do you know what that word means?”

Noah shook his head.

“Okay, well, we’ll look it up when we do your homework. It’s a good word, you can impress your teacher and make your classmates jealous. Now, do you know why your mom would ask your Aunt Amanda if she would take care of you if anything bad happened?”

“Because Grandma Sheila can’t see me anymore and we don’t have any family,” Noah said, and Barba felt another stab of pain.

“Family is what you make it, Noah,” he said. “Do you love your Aunt Amanda and Jesse?” When the boy nodded, Barba continued, “Then they’re your family, aren’t they? And they love you. You said Rollins might not want to take care of you, but I promise, that’s not an option. She would be glad to take care of you but just in case she _can’t_ , your mom needs another person, as a _precaution_ , and she knows that you love Lucy and Lucy loves you. And she knows that you’d be most comfortable in your own bedroom.”

“I don’t wanna live there without Mommy,” Noah said.

Barba swallowed. All this talk about Benson’s mortality was making him ill. “I know, buddy,” he said. “And you won’t have to. Your mom is making plans, but as you get older, those plans will change. But you’re old enough now that you already have a say in what happens to you. If something were to happen to your mom, I _promise_ you that I’ll make sure no one makes you go somewhere you don’t want to go, okay? I’ll tell you a secret, Noah. I’m a _very_ good lawyer.”

Noah giggled, and the sound was like a balm on Barba’s raw nerves.

“What’s so funny?” Barba asked, faking a frown. “You don’t believe me?”

“Mom told Mr. Sanchez that she was friends with the best lawyer in the whole city,” Noah said.

Barba grinned; he couldn’t help it. He imagined Benson threatening her landlord with a lawsuit, for whatever infraction—and using Barba’s reputation as her weapon of choice. The idea made him incredibly happy.

“But later she said we shouldn’t tell you because your head might get big,” Noah added.

Barba laughed, and the boy smiled in response. “Your mother’s very smart, _mijo_. And she’s a good friend, to keep my ego in check. But since you know I’m a good lawyer, you don’t have to worry—because if you ever need me, I’ll be _your_ lawyer. A good lawyer is a good friend to have,” he added with a smile.

Noah hesitated, chewing his lip.

“Ask me,” Barba said, quietly.

“Am I your friend?” Noah asked. “You and Mom are friends…” He frowned. “But I’m just a kid.”

“Sure, we’re friends,” Barba answered. “But we’re also family. I’m Uncle Rafael, right? Or Rafa, the ridiculous nickname your mother insists on using.”

Noah looked at him, his brow furrowed. “Don’t you like it?” he asked.

Barba smiled and reached out a hand, brushing the boy’s curls from his forehead. “I like it,” he answered, softly. “Noah, you need to know that your mom is going to see you tomorrow. Hopefully she’ll be able to go home, but if not tomorrow, then in the next couple of days. She didn’t ask you to go home with Lucy because she thought…she wasn’t coming home. She just meant for Lucy to watch you for the night. I know it’s natural to worry about people we love but you don’t have to worry about your mom. She’s very good at taking care of herself, and we just have to trust her. Let the adults worry. You just be happy knowing how many people love you and want to see you grow up.”

“Do you worry?” Noah asked.

Barba smiled again, although it felt tight. “Often, too much,” he admitted. “And I worried a lot when I was your age. Believe me, I know it’s a tough habit to break, _amigo_ , but I don’t want that for you. You let Uncle Rafa do the worrying for you. Deal?”

“Do you worry about Mom?”

Barba shifted, picking at the hem of his pants. He cleared his throat. He wasn’t sure how to answer. He couldn’t lie, but he didn’t want to say anything to add to the kid’s unease. They’d already talked enough about precautions and worst-case scenarios, and Barba was afraid he’d done the opposite of setting Noah’s mind at ease.

“We always worry about the people we care about, Noah, and your mom deals with a lot of bad people. She does that to protect the rest of us. So yes, I worry. But like I said, we have to trust her to take care of herself.”

“She says you protect people, too,” Noah said.

“I do my best,” Barba managed, feeling suddenly emotional. “I’m honored to be her…sidekick,” he added, forcing a smile.

“Like Batman and Robin?” Noah asked.

“Minus the latex,” Barba answered. At Noah’s puzzled frown, he waved a hand and said, “Never mind. But, sure.”

“Mom says you’re partners.”

 _Are you trying to kill me, kid?_ Barba thought, alarmed to feel his eyes burning. He needed to change the subject before he made a fool of himself. “She’s being generous,” he said. “So, kid, what do you want on your pizza?”

“Do you love her?”

Barba’s heart stumbled in his chest. “I…Of course I do,” he answered through numb lips.

“I mean like—”

Barba’s cell phone rang on the kitchen table, and he jumped off the couch, thinking, _Oh thank God._ “Think about what you want on your pizza, kid,” he said, hurrying to snatch his phone up. He didn’t recognize the number, and he frowned as he answered. “Barba.”

“Is that really how you answer numbers you don’t know?” Benson’s voice asked in his ear, and Barba’s skin began to tingle.

His lips curved into a smile. “I reserve my friendly greetings for when I actually mean them,” he said.

There was a pause from the other end of the call. “Hello,” she said.

His smile widened. “Hey,” he answered, softly.

He heard her quiet laugh, and he tightened his grip on his phone. “How’s my kid, Barba?” she asked after a moment.

Barba turned and looked at Noah, meeting the boy’s eyes over the back of the couch. “I gave him some soda and ice cream and sent him out to do laps around the block. He should be back soon, though,” he added, winking at the boy.

Noah giggled, and Benson laughed again. She sounded tired, and Barba knew she must be in pain. Her laugh meant the world to him.

“Oh, wait, here he is, now,” Barba said, walking over to the sofa. He handed the phone to Noah, who grabbed it eagerly.

“Hi, Mom,” he said, not needing to be told it was her. “Are you okay?”

Barba could hear her voice, faintly, from where he stood: “I am now that I’m talking to you,” she said. “Are you being good for Uncle Rafael?”

Noah smiled up at Barba. “He likes being called Uncle Rafa,” he told her, and Barba heard her soft chuckle through the phone. He turned and walked back to the kitchen to give them privacy. “No, I’m okay,” Noah said. “Uh-uh. Uncle Rafa’s gonna order pizza ‘cause he doesn’t have any food.” He listened for a moment. “No. Uncle Rafa says I shouldn’t worry about you because you can take care of yourself.” Barba waited nervously to hear what else the kid was going to tell her he’d said. “He says he’s your sidekick like Batman and Robin,” Noah added, and Barba closed his eyes, suppressing a groan.

Noah was silent, and Barba wished he could hear what Benson was saying to him.

Finally, the boy said, “I will. I love you, too, Mom. See you tomorrow.” He looked at Barba and held up the phone. “She wants to talk to you again,” he said.

Barba walked over and took the phone, feeling unaccountably nervous. “Hey,” he said.

He could actually hear the smile in her voice when she said, “Hello…Robin.”

He laughed and was glad she couldn’t see the ridiculous blush suddenly darkening his cheeks as he wandered toward the kitchen. “In all fairness, I did use the word sidekick but he’s the one who made you into Batman. Although, since Batman essentially formed The Justice League…”

“He sounds better,” she said. “He was pretty upset earlier. Did he talk to you?”

“Sure,” Barba answered, keeping his tone light for the sake of the little ears listening from the other room. “Nothing that can’t wait until you’re home, though.”

She was quiet for several seconds, her soft breathing the only sound coming through the phone. “Thank you, Rafael,” she finally said.

“What are friends for?” he answered.

“I don’t know what I’d do without you,” she said.

“Luckily, you’ll never have to find out,” he answered.

There was another pause, and she said, “I’m on a lot of pain meds.”

He smiled. “You should get some sleep. Don’t worry about us, we’re just going to have a drink—Hey, Noah, do you like scotch? And maybe go skinny-dipping in the Hudson.”

“It’s good to hear him laughing, after earlier,” she said. “He worries too much.”

“That’s just because he loves you. We all do—worry.” He stopped, lowering his head and closing his eyes, listening to the catch in her breath. “Liv,” he said, quietly. “Get some rest, feel better. We’ll see you tomorrow afternoon.”

“Thanks. Rafa, I…” He could hear the indecision in her silence. “Thanks,” she repeated after a moment. “See you tomorrow.”

“Bye,” he said, but he hesitated, reluctant to end the call.

She didn’t disconnect, either. After a few seconds, she said, “Bye.” Then, finally, he forced himself to hang up. He sighed, running a hand through his hair.

Before he could say or do anything else, the phone rang in his hand. His heart skipped, and he looked at the screen, hoping it was Benson calling back. He felt a brief flare of disappointment when he saw the name on the display.

He answered the phone: “What’s up, Rollins?”

“How’s Noah?”

“We’re fine.”

“We need a warrant.”

“Did you get something?”

“Maybe. He has a storage unit. I’ll text you the address. If we head over there, what are the odds you can find a judge who won’t tell us to wait until morning?”

“Any reason to believe someone’s life is in danger?”

“Not as long as we have him in custody.”

Barba debated. “Give me half an hour,” he said.

“You know who to call?” she asked.

“Call? At supper time, and piss them off? No. I’ve got a better idea,” he said.

“You do know you have a kid tonight, right?” Rollins asked, sounding amused.

Barba turned to look at Noah. “You say kid, I say sidekick,” he said. Noah, even though he didn’t know the context of the conversation, suddenly grinned.

 

*       *       *

 

“You show up at my doorstep while I’m sitting down to dinner with my family—”

“With all due respect, sir, the detectives need to search this storage unit as soon as possible.”

The judge looked at Noah, standing beside Barba. “And you brought a kid to ask for a warrant, Barba?” he said, but his stern expression softened a bit as he looked at the boy.

“My buddy here is staying with me tonight because his mother is in the hospital. An NYPD lieutenant. And the man responsible for her being there is in police custody—”

“He hurt my mom,” Noah piped in. “You gotta help Uncle Rafa so Aunt Amanda and Uncle Sonny and Uncle Fin can make him go to jail so he can’t hurt her again.”

“Is there any reason to think he could—”

“For all we know, he could have an accomplice destroying evidence as we speak,” Barba cut in. The judge shot him a look—a mixture of annoyance and skepticism, and Barba arched an eyebrow in return.

“Fine. Apartment, storage unit, car. That’s it. Understand?”

“Perfectly, sir. Thank you,” Barba said.

The judge looked at Noah. “I hope your mom feels better soon, son,” he said. “You know she’s a hero in this city, don’t you?”

“Yeah,” Noah said.

“You want to be a cop when you grow up?” the judge asked. “Or maybe a judge,” he added, with a wink.

“I’m gonna be the kind of lawyer like Uncle Rafa ‘cause Mom says after she catches the bad guys, he’s who makes sure they get locked up so they can’t hurt anyone else.”

The judge glanced at Barba and sighed. “Well, then, I guess I’ll be seeing you on my doorstep in twenty years or so.”

“You’ll be really old then,” Noah said, and Barba laughed at the judge’s frown. “But I’ll be nice because I think you’re a good judge to help us and I’ll remember you even if you look different.”

“I appreciate that,” the man answered, holding out a hand for the boy to shake.

 

*       *       *

 

“You did an excellent job, _mi amigo_ ,” Barba said as he set the pizza box on the kitchen table. “I should take you with me every time I need to soften up a judge. But unfortunately, it’s getting late, so we need to get to your homework. And then…do you take a shower or bath or something?”

“Bath.”

“Do you…do that yourself, or…”

“Mom usually helps wash my hair,” he said. “You prolly don’t have kid shampoo.”

“No.” They’d stopped by Benson’s apartment on the way back, picking up a change of clothes and pajamas, as well as Noah’s toothbrush and stuffed elephant and a couple of books. It hadn’t occurred to Barba to grab shampoo, though.

“It might burn my eyes if I’m not real careful.”

“Alright, well, we’ll get to that, then. First, dinner, and homework. What do you have to do?”

“I’ve got spelling words and counting. Do you have change? I’m supposed to count money.”

“Change,” Barba said, patting his pockets. “Um, you get your stuff out and I’ll go see what I can scrounge up. And I’ll get you a slice—We should’ve gotten you something to drink. Sorry. Do you want orange juice or water? I don’t have anything else.”

“Orange juice, please.”

A few minutes later, Noah was finishing his first slice of pizza when Barba set a giant dictionary on the table beside him. Noah eyed it suspiciously. “Do you remember what word we’re going to look up?” Barba asked.

“Precaution,” Noah said.

“Very good!” Barba answered, impressed. “Have you ever used a dictionary before?”

“We use the computer,” Noah said.

“Well, in my apartment, we use books. Mostly, anyway. Trust me, it’s a good skill to have. Like reading a map. But we’ll get to all the ways the digital age is ruining today’s youth some other time. Do you know what letter ‘precaution’ starts with?”

Noah mouthed the word. “P?” he asked.

“Very good, _mijo_ ,” Barba said. “Let’s flip through here until we get to words starting with P.”

“Uncle Rafa?”

“Yes, Noah.”

“That judge called me ‘son,’ but he doesn’t even know me.”

“Sometimes that’s just something older people say to…younger guys. Like calling someone…‘sport’ or whatever.”

“Oh,” Noah said. “Okay.”

“If a stranger walked up to you and said, ‘hey, friend,’ then you might think they were being nice, right? But they would still be a stranger. If I walked up to you and said, ‘hey, friend,’ what would you think?”

“You were happy to see me ‘cause we really are friends?”

“That’s right. So you see the difference, right?”

Noah considered. “But I’m not really your son,” he finally said.

“I’m not really your uncle, either,” Barba returned.

After a few seconds, he saw comprehension settle into Noah’s expression, and the boy smiled.

“But if you don’t like it, I’ll stop,” Barba said.

“I like it,” Noah answered, grinning when Barba ruffled his hair.

 

*       *       *

 

Barba opened his eyes and looked down; Noah was curled up against his side, sound asleep. Barba hadn’t meant to fall asleep. After reading to Noah, he’d planned on retiring to the sofa and leaving the boy the bed, but Noah had asked him to stay until he fell asleep. In the dark of night, some of the fears about his mother had returned, and Barba had stretched out on his back with his phone in his hand to keep Noah company until he could slide into sleep.

Now, Barba’s phone—on his chest, with his hand loosely curled around it—was buzzing, and he lifted it up, squinting at the bright screen in the darkness. It was nearly 2am, and he recognized the number from earlier. He answered in a near-whisper, afraid of waking Noah: “Hey.”

“Hello,” Benson returned. “I’m sorry to bother you.”

“I’m not bothered.”

“I know you have court in the morning…”

“That’s why man invented coffee.”

“Are you sure it was a man?”

“I’m sure it was a man who took the credit, anyway,” Barba answered. “What’s up, Liv? Are you alright?”

“You’re quiet—Is Noah right there?”

“Yes, he’s asleep. I’m not sure I can get up without waking him.”

“That’s alright, don’t get up. I just…can’t sleep until the meds kick in again, and…I didn’t…I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have called.”

“Absolutely, you should’ve,” he countered softly. “Do you want me to read you a bedtime story? I happen to have a couple right here, handy.”

She laughed, a quiet, tired sound. “Some other time,” she said. She hesitated. “Today…yesterday, I guess…was a bad day, Barba.”

“I know,” he said.

“I thought…” She trailed off.

He struggled to swallow. He didn’t want to think about how close they’d come to losing her. “I know,” he repeated, and he heard her let out a shaky breath. “But he’s in jail. Soon he’ll be in prison, for a very long time. You, you’ll be home tomorrow or the next day. Your son is curled up beside me, sound asleep. And in just a few minutes, your medicine’ll help you sleep, too.”

“I thought you were a cynic. You’re sounding an awful lot like an optimist, Counsellor.”

“What can I say, I get sappy at 2am. You’ve just never—” He stopped abruptly, closing his eyes.

After a few seconds, she said, “Well, now I know what I’ve been missing out on. Maybe I’ll call you in the middle of the night all the time.”

“Okay,” he said.

“I can feel my IV starting to work.”

“Good,” he answered.

“I like the sound of your voice,” she said.

“Well, that’s good, because you know I like to talk,” he answered, and she laughed.

“You’re a good friend, Rafa.”

“I try my best,” he said after a moment.

“You’re my best friend,” she said.

He chewed his lip for a few seconds, with his heart thudding in his chest. He didn’t want her to say something she would regret, not while she was under the influence of pain meds. “Liv,” he said. “I think—”

“You’re more than a friend,” she cut in.

He cleared his throat. “Liv—”

“Sorry,” she said.

“Don’t be sorry, I just—”

“I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable. Sorry,” she repeated. “It’s…late, and I’m…you know…”

“Liv, honey, I’m not uncomfortable, I just think—”

“You just called me ‘honey.’”

“I…didn’t mean…”

“I’m gonna go to sleep,” she said.

He closed his eyes. “Okay. You sleep, Liv.”

“Love you, Rafa,” she murmured. Before he could say anything, she hung up on him.

He opened his eyes and stared up at the dark ceiling, a dozen thoughts and feelings swirling through him. _Yeah_ , he thought. _I love you, too, Liv_.

 

*       *       *

 

“Your mom will be home in just a few minutes,” Barba said as they let themselves into Benson’s apartment with Noah’s key. “Let’s try to get a jump on your homework so you don’t have to worry about it later.”

“How’s she getting here?” Noah asked, slinging his backpack onto the table with a thud.

“She’s taking a taxi even though I offered to pick her up in our car.” As soon as she’d been approved for release, she’d called for a ride. Any of her detectives would’ve gladly driven her home. Barba would’ve gladly had his car detour to the hospital after he’d gotten Noah from school. Benson hadn’t asked anyone for help, though, and that wasn’t such a surprise.

“Can I have a snack?”

“Uh. Do you usually have a snack after school?”

“Yeah.”

“Okay, then. Listen, Noah, you remember yesterday how I said your mom can take care of herself?”

“Yeah,” Noah said, with a small frown.

“Well, that doesn’t mean we can’t help out a little, right? She’s going to be pretty sore for a while, and her arm’s in a sling so that means it’ll be harder for her to do stuff. So do you think you could do me a favor and…just…sort of help her out with stuff? Little stuff, like…putting your dishes in the dishwasher, or…you know, make sure you pick up your toys…”

“I’ll be real good, Uncle Rafa,” Noah said.

Barba sighed and patted the boy’s head. “I know, kid, I know you’ll be good.”

“Do you think she’s mad at me?”

“No, she’s not mad at you. Why would she be?”

“Because I wouldn’t hug her in the hospital,” Noah muttered, pulling his notebook out of his backpack.

“No, _mijo_ , she knows you were just upset about seeing her hurt. Are you worried about seeing her when she gets here?”

“No,” Noah said, shaking his head. “She’s gonna get better, right, Uncle Rafa?”

“That’s right,” Barba said, happy and relieved that he seemed to have managed to set the boy’s fears to rest. “Do you want an apple?”

“Can I have cookies?” Noah asked, looking up at him expectantly.

Barba narrowed his eyes. “Do I look like I was born yesterday?” he asked, and Noah giggled. “Don’t answer that. No cookies until after dinner. You want an apple?”

“Okay,” Noah said.

When Benson let herself into her apartment a few minutes later, she found Barba and Noah bent over a handful of pocket change, carefully counting it out. She stopped, struck speechless and motionless by the sight. Barba looked up and rose to his feet, walking toward her and reaching for her purse and the jacket slung over her good arm.

Their eyes met, but before she could say anything, Noah was hurtling toward her, yelling, “Mommy!”

She tried to brace herself, but as he got closer, Barba said, “Careful, _mijo_ ,” and the boy slowed. He put his arms around her waist and she held his head against her stomach as tears burned her eyes.

“I missed you, sweet boy,” she murmured.

“Missed you, too, Mom,” Noah said. “Uncle Rafa ordered Chinese food but he got me spaghetti. It’s not here yet but I had an apple.”

“Spaghetti from a Chinese restaurant, huh?” she asked.

Barba, who was hanging her coat on the rack, looked over his shoulder with a grin. “We’re rebels, right, Noah?”

Noah laughed and poked his mother’s hip with a finger. “Guess what, Mom? We went to a judge so that Aunt Amanda and Uncle Sonny and Uncle Fin could go look for evidence so that man who hurt you won’t get out of jail.”

Benson raised her eyebrows. “Did you?” she asked, glancing at Barba. “I’ll bet they appreciated your help. Go finish your homework, okay, honey?”

“Okay,” Noah said. He hugged her, quickly, again, before heading back to the table.

Barba met Benson’s eyes. “Sorry,” he said, looking sheepish. “I—”

She shook her head and reached out, briefly patting his chest, unable to hold his gaze. “Thanks, Barba,” she said. She moved past him and went to sit at the table, across from her son. She sank into the chair carefully, with a wince. “Anything else exciting happen while I was gone?” she asked, wondering if Noah would open up about what he’d been feeling the day before.

“No, we just had pizza,” Noah said with a shrug, separating the change before him with a finger.

“How was school today?”

“Oh, good,” Noah answered. Benson cleared her throat, and Noah looked up. “Do you want some juice, Mom?” he asked. “I can get it.”

She waved him back into his seat as he started to rise. “No, thank you, baby,” she said. “You just keep counting. I need to change out of these…dirty clothes.”

Barba had moved into the kitchen, and he was leaning against the counter, regarding her. She didn’t look at him, because she didn’t want him to see how vulnerable and helpless she was feeling. She knew it was pointless to try and hide her feelings from him, though.

“I really need a shower,” she said, forcing herself to meet his concerned gaze.

Barba glanced at her sling. “Do you…need…”

She managed a smile. “No. Thank you,” she answered. She was sore, and tired, but she didn’t want Noah to worry any more than he already had. “I’m sure you have a million things we’ve kept you from,” she said. The truth was, she didn’t know how she was going to manage…anything. Taking a shower. Helping Noah with his bath. Packing his lunch. All of it suddenly seemed impossibly daunting, and she suppressed a sigh. All she needed was a good night’s sleep in her own bed, and things would look brighter.

She could almost convince herself.

Barba was watching her, so she got up and walked to the sink so he wouldn’t see the worry in her eyes. Once she was at the sink, she wasn’t sure what to do, though. She stood there for a moment, with her back to Barba.

“Do you mind if I hang out for a little bit and finish Noah’s homework with him?” he asked.

Benson turned and looked at Noah, who was bent over his notebook. “If…you want,” she said, glancing at Barba and quickly away. “Don’t feel like you have to stay, though. I’ll just be in the bathroom if you need me, Noah.”

“Okay,” her son said without looking up.

“I’ll just hang out until you’re done,” Barba suggested. “Your food should be here in a minute.”

Noah lifted his head. “You’re not staying for supper?” he asked, his brow furrowed.

“I…”

“Of course, stay and eat,” Benson said. “If you want. I’ll be out in a bit. Just…don’t feel like you have to stay,” she repeated. “If you have plans.”

“Right,” Barba answered, watching her head toward her bedroom. He walked over and sat at the table with Noah. “How are we doing?” he asked, looking over the boy’s carefully-spelled vocabulary words.

“Oh, good,” Noah said. “See?”

“I do see. Excellent job. What did your teacher say about you adding ‘precaution’ to your list, yesterday?”

“She said I’m going to be the best reader in the class,” Noah said, beaming at him.

“Well, that was never in question,” Barba said. “Are there any words you’d like to look up in the dictionary today?”

Noah chewed his lip, frowning. “What kind of lawyer are you?”

“Prosecutor?”

“That starts with a P, too.”

“Yes. Uh…does your mom have a dictionary?” Barba asked, looking toward the bookshelf in the living room.

Noah shrugged.

Emerging from the bedroom with clean clothes over her free arm, Benson said, “As a matter of fact, I do. Come get it, Noah, it’s the red book on the end.”

Hurrying over, Noah said, “It’s a lot smaller than yours, Uncle Rafa.”

“Not surprising,” Benson said, smiling at Barba.

“It’s not the size of the book that’s important, _mijo_ , it’s the words inside,” Barba said. He saw some emotion flit across Benson’s features, dimming her smile, but she’d turned away before he could analyze it. Noah was already back at the table with the dictionary. “Okay, find the P words,” Barba told him, watching Benson disappear into the bathroom.

There was a knock on the door, and Barba got to his feet.

“Supper!” Noah exclaimed.

“I’ve got it,” Barba called toward the bathroom so that Benson wouldn’t worry. He answered the door and paid for the food, returning to set it on the table. “Did you find the right section?” he asked Noah. “It starts with a P-R like precaution but then the next letter is O. Is O before or after E?”

“After.”

“Good. So ‘prosecutor’ will be after ‘precaution.’ Look for P-R-O words.”

“Okay,” Noah said, running his finger along the pages as he scanned.

While the boy was searching the dictionary, Barba got the container of spaghetti from the takeout bag and poured a cup of apple juice from the refrigerator.

“Uncle Rafa!” Barba moved to Noah’s side to look where the boy was pointing. “Is that it? Look.”

“You found it!” Barba said, feeling proud—and happy, because the boy was proud of himself. Barba ruffled Noah’s hair. “I’m impressed, kid,” he told him. “Let’s see what the definition—” He broke off, and they both looked up at a clatter from the bathroom. It sounded as though something—or rather, a lot of somethings, had been knocked over. Barba looked at Noah. “Actually, why don’t you go ahead and eat, buddy, until I get back, and we’ll finish this later.”

“Is Mommy okay?”

“She’s fine, she probably just knocked something over. I’ll go help clean up. Listen, don’t open the door or…do anything you’re not supposed to do, alright? Just sit here and eat, yeah?”

“Okay.”

Barba nodded and walked toward the bathroom, feeling apprehensive. He knocked lightly on the door. “Liv?” he asked.

“I’m fine,” she said, but she didn’t sound fine.

Barba hesitated. “Are you…Can I come in?” he asked. She didn’t answer. “I’m…coming in,” he said. He waited, giving her a chance to object. He tried the knob and found it unlocked, but he opened the door slowly. He poked his head inside, unsure what to expect.

She was fully-clothed and sitting on the side of the bathtub, her forehead in her hand. Everything on the shelves in the shower—shampoos and conditioners, lotions and body washes, soap markers and toys—had been knocked into the bathtub.

Barba slipped into the room and closed the door behind himself. “What’s going on?” he asked, quietly. She didn’t answer or look up. Barba walked forward and sank into a crouch in front of her. “Liv, honey, talk to me,” he said.

“I’m just tired,” she answered, quietly.

Barba reached out, hesitantly, and put his hand on her knee. “Tell me how to help,” he said.

She drew a deep breath and lifted her head to look at him. She had dark smudges beneath her eyes, and a few bruises and scrapes on her chin. Her hair was a tangled mess around her face.

“Do you want me to get your pills?” he asked.

“I’ve been hurt worse than this, Barba,” she said, quietly.

Barba grimaced. He knew that, of course, but he didn’t like to think of it. “There’s no shame in—”

“I thought I was going to die, Rafael,” she said softly, and he stopped, feeling as though he’d been hit in the stomach. “Just for maybe a minute or two. Just long enough to think about…things. And then…Lucy couldn’t get to Noah’s school right away, and my detectives were busy. I don’t have any family left. I don’t know if I made a mistake keeping Sheila away.”

“You mean, after she kidnapped your son?” Barba asked.

“All of Noah’s emergency contacts at school are cops and lawyers, except his babysitter,” Benson said, and Barba could see the guilt shining in her eyes.

“Lawyers?” he asked. “You have more than one?”

He was glad to see the small smile curve her lips. “Just Langan,” she said. “And don’t worry, he’s last on the list.”

“Is he the one who helped you with the guardianship arrangements?”

She swallowed, searching his face. “Is that why Noah was upset? Did he hear us talking about it?”

“Yes. He was afraid that you weren’t coming home and he was going to be living with Rollins or Lucy.”

“You calmed him down,” she said. It wasn’t a question.

Barba shrugged a shoulder. “I talked to him.”

“You’re surprised he believed you?” she asked, smiling again. “That he trusted you when you told him it was okay? I don’t think you realize—he thinks you’re like a superhero.”

Barba arched an eyebrow. “Apparently you’ve been telling him things,” he said. “Building me up.”

She shook her head. “Only the truth,” she murmured.

He hesitated, trying to ignore the butterflies in his stomach. “Liv,” he said, quietly. “Your family—Noah’s family—might not be conventional, but it’s real. You know what it means that the best detectives in the city are his emergency contacts? It means that he’ll never be alone, he’ll always be protected. He’s going to be fine, Olivia. And so are you.”

“I don’t feel fine,” she admitted. “I feel…helpless. That’s not a feeling I like.”

“I’m right here,” he said. “All you have to do is tell me what you need.”

She looked at him. “I’m…not good at asking for help, you know that,” she finally said with a small smile.

“I didn’t say ask for help,” he answered. “I said tell me what you need. You’re Batman and I’m Robin, remember?”

He was rewarded with a quiet, tired laugh. “Rafael Barba, Boy Wonder,” she muttered.

He grinned.

She shook her head, laughing again. “A _boy wonder_ who should get up soon before his knees give out,” she added.

Barba chuckled. “Liv,” he said, after a moment. “I have two questions. Do you need help getting undressed, and do you want me to call someone for you?”

Her breath caught as they looked at each other. “Like who?” she muttered, holding his gaze with effort.

“Rollins?” he suggested.

“I’m her boss.”

“She’s your friend.”

“I’m still her boss.”

“What about my mother?” he asked.

She managed a smile, touched by the suggestion. “That’s sweet, Rafael,” she said. “Really. But I barely know her.” He opened his mouth, but she put her hand over his on her knee and cut him off before he could speak: “I can get my clothes off,” she said. She saw him swallow. “I can’t wash my hair. All night in the hospital, every time I woke up, I kept thinking that all I wanted to do was wash my hair. It’s itchy, messy, gross. All morning, I kept thinking I needed to get home and just wash my hair and I’d feel…human again. In the cab here, it’s all I wanted apart from seeing Noah—and you. I just kept thinking that I’d feel better, but I never thought about how I would do it. Until I got in here. And I _can_ probably do it, it’ll just take a long time one-handed, and I’m just…tired. But it doesn’t matter—it’s a stupid thing. I don’t have to work tomorrow, so who cares if it’s a mess? What’s an itchy scalp compared to all this?” she asked, indicating her sling with a grimace. “So I decided to sit here and feel sorry for myself for a few minutes, and then…Well, then, I’ll get over it, and go hang out with my son.”

Barba glanced up at the shower head and saw that it was the removable, handheld kind. He looked at her shirt; she would have to remove the sling, of course, to take off the shirt, but he doubted she was wearing a bra. A nurse would’ve likely helped her dress, and replace the sling, and they would’ve known she would have difficulty undressing herself.

He looked at the pajamas she had folded on the edge of the sink.

“Raf,” she said, drawing his gaze to hers. “It’s really not important,” she told him, quietly.

“Of course it is,” he answered. “And I’m a little annoyed you didn’t tell me it was bothering you when you called last night. I would’ve called the nurses’ station and threatened to sue the hospital if they didn’t send someone down to wash your hair for you.”

She laughed. “I’m sure that would’ve gone over well.”

“Do you care if this shirt gets wet?” he asked.

She glanced down at herself, frowning. “Care? I might cut the damned thing off if I can’t get my arm out.”

“Right, so, not attached to the shirt, then,” Barba said. He leaned forward, reaching past her, and started retrieving containers from the bathtub, setting them on the floor beside himself. “Do you have a pair of shorts?”

“Shorts?” she repeated, watching him.

“Dresser?” he asked, pushing to his feet with a wince as his knees popped.

“Bottom drawer, left,” she said. She watched him nod and leave the bathroom, and she sat there, staring at the door, wondering why she hadn’t said anything to stop him. She wasn’t actually going to let him _wash her hair_ , was she? It was ridiculous.

She heard him talking to Noah: “How’re you doing out here, kid?” he asked.

“Good. Look, Uncle Rafa, I wrote it. Prosecutor. But I can’t understand all of the…the…”

“Definition? That’s alright, we’ll go over it in a little bit, okay? When I come back. If you’re done with your spaghetti, why don’t you go watch TV until we’re done?”

“Okay,” Noah said.

Benson heard Barba go into her bedroom, heard her dresser drawer open. Then the sounds of the television drowned everything else out, and she waited, looking up at the doorway when Barba reappeared with a pair of boxer shorts in his hand.

“They’re not…” She cleared her throat as he closed the door. “I buy them to wear as pajamas,” she said.

“I didn’t ask,” he answered, shooting her a look.

“I wanted you to know,” she said.

“Can you change into these?” he asked, holding her gaze. She swallowed and nodded. “Without hurting yourself?” he asked. She hesitated, and nodded again. “Liv?”

“I’m not going to let you take my pants off, Rafael. At least, not—” She stopped, her cheeks darkening. She cleared her throat, again. She reached for the shorts with trembling fingers and got to her feet.

“Do you want me to leave—”

“Just turn around,” she muttered.

He nodded and turned his back.

Benson, still unsure why she hadn’t put an end to the situation, unbuttoned her slacks with her good hand and struggled to push her pants and underwear down her hips. She stepped out of them and kicked them aside before picking up the shorts and carefully stepping into one leg, then the other. She pulled them up. She was sweating, both from the effort and the pain, but she’d gotten them on.

“Okay,” she said, and he turned around.

“We’ll need the sling off so it doesn’t get wet,” he said, and she nodded. “Will you be alright without it?”

“Yes.”

He moved forward and she turned so he could help her out of the sling. He set it beside the sink and tipped his head to better see her face. “Okay?” he asked, and she nodded. “Do you want something for pain?” When she shook her head, he said, “Liv.”

“I’m alright. Really.”

Their gazes held, and he said, “Are you okay with this? Tell me if you’re not.”

Until that moment, she still hadn’t been sure if she was going to let him actually go through with his plan. But, no matter what she’d claimed, it did feel important to get clean—especially her hair. It was more than that, though. She’d told him that she wasn’t good at asking for help, and that was the truth. He already knew that, of course.

He wanted only to make her feel better, while asking for nothing for himself. She trusted him, and she needed him to know that. She loved him, and she knew that he loved her. She knew that she was safe with him, and she desperately wanted and needed to feel safe.

She turned and stepped into the bathtub, then reached out a hand for help. He held her wrist, and put his other hand against her back, and helped her sit down in the tub. He reached up and pulled down the showerhead. She used her good arm to cradle the other against her stomach as he lowered himself to his knees on the rug.

She was sitting with her back to the faucet. When he turned on the water, she winced at the cold splash against the back of her shirt.

“Sorry,” he murmured, but the water was already getting warmer. He turned on the shower, holding the head pointed at the drain until the water was flowing at a good temperature. He brushed her hair back from her shoulders, his knuckles brushing the nape of her neck as he splayed his hand beneath her hair and began wetting it. “Are you okay?” he asked when she closed her eyes. “If you’re uncomfortable—”

“I’m not,” she said. “Not with you.”

She heard, over the sound of the water, his breath catch. He didn’t say anything, but continued spraying her hair, running his fingers through the tangles as gently as possible. He moved his hand to her forehead, and she tipped her head back a bit as he wetted the top of her head. The warm water was soothing against her scalp; so were his fingers.

With her eyes still closed, she said, “Thank you. Not…just for this, but…for taking care of Noah, and…for talking to me at two in the morning, and…for always being…there when I need you.”

“That’s what friends are for,” he said, and they both remembered her words from the late-night phone call: _you’re more than a friend._ She knew he wouldn’t mention it. She’d been pretty well medicated, and feeling vulnerable, and Barba knew that.

He flipped off the showerhead, set it in the tub behind her, and grabbed a bottle of shampoo from the floor, squeezing some into his hand. He started gently massaging the shampoo into her hair, and she had to suppress a groan. His fingers eased the itch of her scalp, and she let out a breath.

“Good?” he asked, and she could hear the smile in his voice.

“I don’t think anything could feel better right now,” she admitted.

There was a pause, and then, sounding amused, he said, “No?”

Her stomach squirmed—not unpleasantly, as his fingers continued to massage her scalp. She opened her eyes and glanced sideways at him, not quite able to catch her breath when she caught his gaze. She managed to swallow, and said, “You’d be surprised by how much I really wanted my hair…clean.”

“Just call me…Rafael _Barber_ ,” he said, grinning when she grimaced. “Yeah, I know, but I couldn’t resist. It would’ve been better if you wanted a haircut. Do you?”

She laughed. “Not tonight, thanks,” she said.

“Well.” He turned his attention to her hair, working the lather down to the tips. “Next time, maybe.”

“Next time,” she murmured, closing her eyes again. After nearly a full minute of silence, while he methodically ensured that every strand of hair was soapy, she said, “I used to have short hair, you know.”

“I’ve seen pictures,” he said, quietly.

“Before your time,” she muttered.

“If only I’d come to Manhattan sooner,” he said, his voice barely audible.

She swallowed. “I think you came at the right time,” she heard herself say. “But maybe that’s just me being selfish.”

“I’ve never known you to be selfish,” he said.

“You’ve been here for some of the toughest moments of my life. I wouldn’t trade the…support you’ve given me for anything. But what about you? You’ve had a lot of bad moments, too, and…I can only hope that you know I’m always here if you need to talk.”

His hands stilled in her hair, and she heard him draw a breath. “Having a drink after a hard day? Getting coffee before work? Showing up with candy after my suspension? You might think those are small things, Liv, but I’ll tell you a secret. _You_ are my emotional support system. Just you. I’m no better than you are at asking for help. In fact, as with everything, I’m sure I’m considerably worse. But don’t ever doubt what it means to me to have you by my side—ever. Or in the courtroom behind me, when I know you have faith in me. Every time I’ve needed you, you’ve found me. You always find me and…pull me back to myself.”

He turned the water back on, holding his hand in the spray to make sure the temperature was right. He lifted her soapy hair from her back, beginning to rinse the shampoo out.

“So if you’re asking if I’m glad I came here when I did, the answer’s yes. Even if I did miss the short hair. Maybe I’ll see it some day. But right now, I’m glad—short hair wouldn’t be nearly as much fun to wash.”

She laughed. “This is fun for you?”

“Oh, I don’t know,” he said, softly. “Seeing you bruised, tired…in pain…That’s not a turn-on, Liv. But I can’t say I’ve never wanted an excuse to run my fingers through your hair.”

She laughed again, a surprised sound, and looked at him. He offered a smile. “I’ll admit something, too, then,” she said. She lifted her hand and motioned with her finger, and he bent his head closer, pointing the showerhead toward the drain. She reached up and ran her fingers through the hair above his ear. “I love…these gray patches,” she said, holding his gaze. His lips were parted; he wasn’t breathing. She moved her hand to his jaw, and the stubble there. “And the gray here,” she added, brushing her fingertips lightly along the curve of his jawline.

“I’ll bleach it all if you want,” he said.

She smiled. “No. I like watching it change. It reminds me of the time we’ve spent together.”

“You think you’re making me go gray?”

She laughed. “I’m sure,” she said. “Don’t try to tell me I don’t bring you more stress than—”

He bent his head forward and kissed her, his fingers rising to rest against her chin. His lips were light against hers—hesitant. He pulled back and searched her eyes, his fingers warm and damp against her chin. She slid her hand from his jaw into his hair, pulling his head forward, and his mouth covered hers again.

She shifted toward him, automatically, and winced; she’d forgotten her injuries in her desire to be closer to him. Barba pulled back, cupping his warm hand along her jaw.

“It’s not stress I feel when I look at you, Liv, not even when you’re yelling at me,” he said, earning a small smile. “But we can talk about this later, when you’re not hurt.” He moved his hand to her head and returned the spray of water to her soapy hair. “Your food’s getting cold, and so are you.”

“I’m not cold,” she muttered.

He ran his fingers through her hair, working the suds out. He cupped his hand to the back of her head and said, quietly, “Tip back a little.” She leaned into his hand, letting him support her head. She closed her eyes, tilting her chin up, and he carefully sprayed the shampoo from her forehead and temples before continuing to rinse her hair.

She felt a pang of disappointment when he finally eased her upright and turned off the water. He pushed himself to his feet and reached down a hand, pulling her up. Her legs felt unsteady, but he held her arm to support her.

“Do you need help now that your clothes are wet?” he asked, but he didn’t look down.

“No,” she said. “I can get dressed but I might need help getting the sling back on.”

He nodded. “Just call me when you need me,” he said.

She leaned forward and pressed a kiss against the corner of his mouth. His eyes closed, and she let her lips linger for a few seconds before pulling back. “Thank you,” she said.

 

*       *       *

 

“Liv, honey, wake up.”

Her eyes fluttered open, and she looked up at Barba. He was bent over her, his expression full of apology.

“Sorry,” he said, quietly. “I didn’t want to wake you but I was afraid you’d be sore if you sleep here.”

She winced as he helped her sit up. “Where’s Noah?” she asked, looking around.

“He’s sleeping. Sorry, I didn’t want to wake you,” he repeated.

“You put him to bed?” When he nodded, she said, “You’re still here.”

“I’ll leave if you want. Just let me help you to bed, first.”

“If I want?” she asked as she got to her feet with another wince. She looked back at the couch. “What happened to my food? I was eating, right?”

He chuckled. “I think you managed about four bites, yes. I put it in the refrigerator before you could dump it all over your clean pajamas.”

“Oh. Did you eat?”

“Yes.”

“And Noah? Is he alright?”

“He’s fine. Happy to have you home.”

She glanced at him as he led her toward her bedroom. “You’re so…domestic,” she said, and he laughed again. “I could get used to it.”

“I could hope,” he murmured.

“I don’t want you to leave. Not tonight,” she said. “But…if you have—”

“The morning can worry about itself, Liv,” he told her. “Do you need to take something?”

“No.”

“Do you need to use the bathroom?”

She laughed. “I just want to go to bed,” she said. “Don’t tell Noah I didn’t brush my teeth.” She paused. “Did he—”

“Yes. Twice, actually, because he might’ve convinced me to let him have a cookie after the first brushing.” When she laughed, he added, “He’ll make an excellent lawyer someday.”

She stopped and turned toward him, reaching her good arm around him. He wrapped his arms around her in a hug, without hesitation, kissing her temple. She closed her eyes, breathing in his scent, letting his warmth surround her. Her eyelids were heavy, and she had to force them open.

“Come on, honey, let’s get you to bed,” he murmured against her hair.

She let him lead her into the bedroom, and he turned back the covers for her. She slipped into her familiar bed with a sigh of relief, and looked up at him as he tucked the blankets around her. “I probably have some sweats that’ll fit you in the dresser,” she said.

“Okay. Just sleep, Liv. I’ll be back in a minute.”

She nodded against the pillow, closing her eyes. She dozed off, and the next time she opened her eyes, he was standing beside the bed in sweats and a t-shirt, both pilfered from her dresser. He bent down and kissed her forehead, brushing her hair back from her cheek.

“If you need anything, just yell,” he whispered.

She reached out and touched his wrist. “Stay with me,” she said. She saw his hesitation, and added, “Please.”

He nodded and walked around the bed, slipping under the covers beside her. She turned toward him, and he put out an arm, wrapping it around her as she snuggled against his chest. She couldn’t put her arm over him because of the sling, but she put her cheek against his shoulder and closed her eyes as he tucked his chin against her head.

“Goodnight, Liv,” he murmured.

“Goodnight, Rafa,” she said, already drifting off.

“I love you,” he whispered into her hair, the soft words following her into sleep.


End file.
